Think Fast
by amamelia5452
Summary: Rindu of district 5 has no fighting skills. She expects to die at the cornucopia battle, but somehow makes it out alive. Using her strongest skill, quick thinking, she survives an ever-morphing arena day by day. As she continues to beat the odds, Rindu might just start to believe in luck in the Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Goodbye Me

Thirty seconds until start, and I felt...well, finished. I was done with life, I give up, take me away. Why was this taking so long? Any sane person would be scared out of their minds by now. Lucky for me, my sanity disappeared as quickly as the sun on reaping day. The heavens had opened when Marriline Silistine had pulled my name out of the reaping ball. Somehow, I wasn't surprised.I'd had a strange feeling all week that my name would come out of that glass bowl. Being that I took 28 tesserae, I had a pretty good chance of getting picked. I wasn't scared or sad. The rain made it feel like those ancient movies, where the protagonist is shocked by a sudden twist in the plot, looks into the stormy skies, and screams as loud as he can. Maybe I could use that to create a diversion in the games. Or, to avenge my death.

The last time I saw my family was after the reaping, when my male counterpart and I were coerced out of the rain and into a small visitation room. My mother said that the angels were crying for me up in the clouds today, and their tears would bring me luck in the weeks to come. I laughed manically at the idea of luck in the Hunger Games. It was literally an oxymoron.

I had given up on any chance of living on the first day of training. I stood no chance against the trained assassins from districts 1 and 2, or the deceptive and cunning district 7 partners. Even the girl from 8 seemed a threat, and she was 4 foot 3. I knew I would be the first to die. I might as well step off my pedestal before the games even start, save them the trouble of running a knife through my chest. Still, something kept me glued to the floor the entire time. Maybe I still had a glint of hope left in my weak body. It surely would die with the rest of me, but I held onto it like a security blanket.

Ten seconds to start. We were ascending, locked in these steel tubes like criminals. I looked at my reflection in the shiny surface, and for a split second imagined my mother looking back at me, our matching blue eyes mirroring each other's fear. Suddenly, a blinding white light circled the top of the tube, erasing the reflection and slowly making its way down the tube until it was filled with the powerful glow..

My eyes adjusted quickly. It barely made a difference. The entire room was white, almost glowing. Twenty-three of us would decorate it's walls in crimson by the time these games were over. It was about 200 feet on all sides, and there were no weapons to be found. In fact, the closest thing to a mechanism of destruction I could see was a butter knife. It looks like this departure may take a while.

My district partner was on my right. His eyes glowed with fear, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. I remembered his name from the reaping because it had such a lovely sound to it. Devican Lavete had become this year's Hunger Heartthrob for the Capitol. His wavy blond hair fell to his shoulders, and his prep team had left it at its dreamy length. His hazel eyes were wide with shock, and I could almost hear the Capitol girls giggling and blowing kisses to their TV screens. He had absolutely no need to worry, I thought. He could probably survive solely on rich, lovesick, teenage sponsors.

I looked down at my clothing for the first time. There had been no mirrors in the waiting room, but my air-headed blue-skinned stylist assured me I looked absolutely gorgeous in her opinion. I was amazed at the fact I could actually hear her through my barrier of thoughts, but now, her comment worried me. How bad did I look? My clothing was as colorless as the room, and I was sure it would soon be drenched in blood. My blood. I had a small label printed on my sleeve in blue ink: R. NADARIA, DIST. 5. Would anyone remember my name this time next year? Would I just be a nameless, faceless tribute in the eyes of the Capitol? I had to fight. If I fought, maybe I would survive. Maybe I would be memorable, special.

I knew my family was watching me on our dusty TV screen. Mom and Dad were praying to the gods of life. Auroris was crying. Jamie was quiet, stoic, invisible. This time last year, I was sitting next to them, imagining what it must be like to stand on a pedestal and await your death. Now, I was here. I wished myself a last goodbye. Hasta la vista, Rindu Nadaria. I hope you had a good life, because this is it now.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Let the 69th annual Hunger Games begin.


	2. Chapter 2: The Essence and the Pale

**I'm sorry these chapters are so short, I promise the next one will be longer!**

I surprised myself by actually running when the cannon sounded to start the massacre. I guess I had better survival instincts than I thought. My mind was clear, my blood was still neatly contained inside my skin, and my adrenaline had kicked in at just the right moment. I had never run so fast in my life, and yet I found my self thinking, go faster, go faster, and you just might make it out alive. My legs were still sprinting when I tripped and fell flat on my face. For a split second, my only thought how embarrassing it was to trip to death. Then, I jumped to my feet as though nothing had happened. Thankfully, I was far enough away from the massacre that no one noticed my comical fall. They were all to busy doing one of two things; killing or dying.

I turned away from the sickening, ever-growing pool of blood to find what I had tripped over. A white backpack stood in front of me, easily camouflaging itself in the colorless room. It seemed to be mocking me, saying, _you were just defeated by a backpack, HA-HA! _I gave it a dirty look, then snatched it and ran as far away from the massacre as I could to examine its contents.

When I was sure I was out of viewpoint and earshot, I sat down behind a wall that blended in to look like part of the outer barrier and caught my breath. I dug through the backpack to see what I was lucky enough to grab. Two bottles clattered out first. The first one was shaped like a thermos, and I took it to be a water bottle. I found that it was filled with...well, water. What else would you expect to find in a water bottle? The second bottle, though, was cylindrical and filled with red-yellow liquid. I poured a drop onto my finger to figure out what it was made of. I was just about to taste test it when I felt a sudden, screaming pain in my finger. I drenched my finger in water and frantically shook it about. A drop-sized hole in the center of my finger remained. I realized I had seen this poison in action before.

To most, it was known as Essence of Nightlock, one of the most deadly poisons on the planet. If in contact with human skin, it can dissolve away an entire arm in less than a minute. If ingested, it has the same effect as the infamous berry. This poison would be invaluable to me, and my possession of it was key to survival in this Games. I had only seen it used once before, in a documentary on Capitol torture devices. Criminals arrested for murder were subject to Nightlock Water torture, where a drop of Essence is put on your head and each limb every 10 seconds, until all that is left is a bloody mass. I remember thinking that nothing in Panem could be worse than that. I was dead wrong.

I removed the image from my mind and continued sorting. I left a capful of Essence by my side for quick defense, and hid the rest of the bottle in my backpack. I pulled out a length of ivory rope, invisible string for traps, and what appeared to be a thick, pale coat. The arena was about the temperature of a power plant in July, so another layer of clothing seemed ludicrous. Why would the Gamemakers waste their time on futile supplies? I checked the entire suit for clues and found nothing inside to direct me to its uses. All that was on it was a small label; PALE: EVANESCENCE CONTRIVANCES. I thought back to my brief schooling before I was dragged into the power plants. What could those words mean?

Suddenly, a phrase from a past Games jumped back into my head: _an evanescent mist of poisonous gas._ The death cloud had disappeared after half an hour, resulting in 3 dead tributes. The mist had _disappeared_. Was it possible? I shoved my arm into the sleeve of the suit. It was as if it had disappeared into thin air.

I felt like I had just won the Hunger Games.

.


	3. Chapter 3: Just to Watch Him Die

Chapter 3: Just to Watch Him Die

The only useful information I had learned from watching the past Hunger Games was to pull out your best tricks at the end. The winners usually hold the element of surprise, such as a dose of poison or a big rock in their bag, and the trainers and sponsors always said to save your skills. I completely ignored that information, and thank goodness I did.

I tossed on my new PALE suit, looked down at my body, and nearly screamed. It was quite strange, I must say, look down and see ten wiggling toes looking back at you. It is especially weird when said toes have no feet attached to them. My entire body was invisible...except for my head. Maybe that was a good thing, maybe the tributes would be terrified by the Mysteeerious Floating Head! When they figured out the suit, though, I would probably become Mysterious Floating Stew, super delicious, evanescently nutritious! I laughed silently at the prospect of people deep-frying my head. How sick of me.

This is just ridiculous. Why would anyone make an invisibility suit that doesn't cover your head? As I attempted to jam my head in the armpit hole, I came up with a list of unfathomably rude names to scream at the Gamemakers if I ever made it out alive. After deciding that my head was not pit-sized, I moved on to finding a gap in the chest area to pocket my head into. By now, my lovely list had reached about 20 words. No matter what, though, I had to figure out a way to hide my head in the suit. What if I wore it upside-down? My arms could fit through the leg holes easily, and it was worth a shot. After 10 minutes of struggle, I had finally gotten my entire body into the suit. It was a little claustrophobic and I had to hold my head at an uncomfortable angle, but it seemed like my plan had succeeded, As I admired my skillful quick thinking, I noticed a large, loose piece of fabric between my legs, where the head would usually be. The suit had a hood. That's just great.

I pulled off the suit and put it on the right way round, making sure to send a rude gesture that the citizens of the Capitol would never forget. I realized they couldn't see my hand, so I took the entire suit off again and did it again, just to make sure they got the message. I then threw the hood over my dirt-brown hair and looked over my body again. now I was simply a floating face. after searching over the suit again for a face mask, I noticed the drawstrings on either side of my neck. How ignorant could I possibly be? I pulled the strings and my face was instantly covered in translucent mesh. I checked the suit one more time, and there was indeed a pocket I had not noticed before. Inside was a dagger, silvery-white and lined in blood red paint. The handle was ornately carved, and the amber crevices fit perfectly into my hand. As my fingers clamped around it, the tip of the knife appeared to dissolve. Little by little, the knife took in the colorless state of the rest of the room, and only its thin, crimson rim was visible. After an hour of struggle, I was ready to come out of hiding. Maybe, a life will end tonight.

I was forced to face the inevitable now. This suit was not meant for just waiting out the kills until no one was left. I was not meant for that either. The Gamemakers want me to become their dream tribute- a sociopathic murderer with blood on their hands and no care in the world except winning. At this point in the Games, this arena had to mean only four words to me: die or be dead. I couldn't pretend I didn't care anymore. If I ever wanted to see the people I love again, I would have to kill 23 other humans with loved ones too. People with friends, families, and lives. Now, they were just names to me. Simply names.

I stepped out from behind the wall and began my walk to what would either be the greatest triumph or the worst death in the entire Games. A plan formed in my mind as I took silent, slow steps to the far left corner of the room. The Career tributes had set up camp there, and they were cooking what looked like a packet of dry meat over a portable stove. I recognized one of them from the training center. Arki Takhacaten had about as much heart as a rock with an angry face painted on it. In fact, I was almost sure that was her tribute token, because her face was always stony and outraged, and during training she was constantly threatening people with a little red stone. I told one of the trainers what I had seen, and they confiscated whatever that piece was. Ever since, Arki Angry-Face was set on burning me alive.

If I was going to kill anyone tonight, it would be her. She was a trained assassin, and If she saw my face she would slice me in half with one good sword throw. Also, I didn't know all the properties of the suit, so my plan could fray and I could become invisible soup. I was so deep in thought I nearly ran into a tribute standing right in front of me. He didn't even glance up, which I found odd. I then remembered that I was wearing an invisibility suit, and he couldn't see me if he tried. I decided to have a little fun.

I sat on one side of him, leaned close, and blew lightly into his ear. He jumped out of his skin and started whacking the air in such a frenzy that I had to jump out of his way. I got a good glimpse of his food source, which appeared to be...human?

Now that I looked closer, I could see the remnants of a bleeding hand lying next to him, and a ribcage smoking over a portable stove. I nearly vomited all over my suit. How could anyone be so mentally disturbed as to EAT a tribute on the first day? There was no starvation yet, and no reason at all to be keeping the rotting flesh from the Cornucopia carnage. A better question, how long could the Gamemakers stand to keep a cannibal in the games, and what would they do about it?

As I began walking towards my first victim, I checked the label on the side of his shirt: T. LORCALATI, DIST. 6. I recognized him from training, and I believe his first name was Titus. His name would go down in history as the first cannibal in the Hunger Games, I thought. Hopefully, he would also be the last.

I had finally reached the Career camp. Arki was directly in front of me, with her back turned to me. Her hands were waving about frantically, so she was probably having an extremely animated discussion with her friends. Friends being a loose term, I guess, being that if it came down to only them, she wouldn't hesitate to stick a knife in their chest.

"So then, I saw that idiot from District nine coming up behind me, so I threw a dagger straight through his head! He wasn't much of a threat, and someone else probably could have killed him later, but I thought, why not get a head start? So then I must have hit some huge nerve endings, because he started going all spastic, like this!"

The Careers all guffawed at her imitation of a dying boy, who I remembered was named Jordyn. I wondered what his parents might be thinking right now.

I lost all sense of regret, feelings, restraints. My heart was as cold as stone. She deserved to die a horrible death. I would give her just that.

I took a capful of the Essence of Nightlock out of my backpack. The blood-red liquid fueled me, as if saying, let her see what it's like to die defenseless. Let her feel that pain. While she continued her "hilarious" impression of a defenseless twelve-year-old, I poured it quickly into her water bottle. Then I sat right next to her, and waited for her to take a sip. Within seconds, she reached for the silver bottle, opened it, and took a large gulp without thinking twice.

Had I put the wrong amount in? Why wasn't she reacting? I was clueless to the effects of this liquid other than on skin, but I would imagine It could do some serious damage inside you too. I decided that if she didn't react, I wouldn't try again. I couldn't defeat her with a sword, and the room was to small to run away and hide in. Maybe she would make a good victor.

As if on cue, Arki grabbed her throat. She jumped once, twice, then let out a bloodcurdling scream.

It was the most horrible thing I had ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4: One Down

Chapter 4: One Down

**WARNING TO READERS: I consider the following chapter to be a little more gory than what I've written so far. If you are easily grossed out or scared by Hunger Games-style deaths, skip the next three paragraphs. It will still be easy to follow the story line if you do. Thanks to all the Hunger Games fans who viewed my story! Please comment, and tell your friends about this fanfic!**

People don't look too pretty without faces.

In fact, if there is anyone who was born without a face, they're hiding it well. Up until now, I have never considered what anyone would look like without a face. Arki's throat was the first to go.

Tiny droplets of blood began puncturing her skin, then ruptured into bleeding waterfalls cascading black-tinted crimson down her chest. Her vocal chords were ripped from her neck, so I no longer had to hear the shrieks. She opened what was left of her mauled jawline and attempted a soundless scream. Blood poured from every opening in her body, and her eyes had formed a yellow-red glaze coating that began oozing across her eyelids.

Her body was trying to fight of the nightlock. If she could force herself to give up, to let go, hear death could have been easy. Her blood vessels were ripping through her skin, trying to rid themselves of the poison but instead singeing her skin and melting her long, jet-black hair. Her eyes had become sockets, her nose had peeled away from her anguished, bloody face.

It took her 1 minute and 12 seconds to die. It could have taken longer, but one of the Careers skewered her to rid her of the pain. They were all clueless as to what had happened. They left the bloody heap that was once Arki behind and moved to a safer location, questioning how one of their best fighters had been poisoned without anyone noticing. They were completely unfazed by her gory death.

I, on the other hand, was unable to move. I was shaking, sobbing over the girl I had unintentionally tortured to death. No one deserved to die this way. The Games had already changed me. I thought I could hold out for longer, be who I am to the death, and I had already followed their orders. I followed out of fear. I had no choice.

Well, I did have a choice. I could do the little things that people will notice, actions that will stick in people's heads like a Capitol radio tune. Or I could kill myself. I think the former option seems like the better way to go.

I managed to unglue myself from the floor, and began to walk shakily back to my makeshift shelter. I took a detour so I could be as far away from Titus as possible. If I saw any more carcasses tonight, I might become one myself. My eyes were cloudy, so I didn't see the camp I had just stepped into. And by stepped into, I mean stepped on top of.

I hadn't seen Devican since we stepped off the platforms. It has been six hours since then, and I'm glad to know he's still alive. Any other girl would have been beyond thrilled to accidentally step on Mr. Lovely Lavete, but I had never felt the same way. Now, looking into his scared eyes, I saw what the Devican Fan Club must see in him. I had my reasons for not adoring him, though, the first being that we were in the Hunger Games together. That would truly be the most awkward relationship in any documented Games. Or in any case, for that matter.

He had jerked out of his sleeping bag now, and he was trying to figure out what had stepped on him. I felt a pang of guilt for sending him into ultimate paranoia in the most stressful moment possible. This fueled my decision to take off my suit. Obviously, appearing out of thin air with a knife in my hand was not exactly a _good_ decision.

Devican started chucking whatever he could find in his backpack at my floating head. I was going to wait until he ran out of items to throw, That was before I saw the jackknife protruding from one of the pockets. Maybe it would be better to explain myself now.

I began screaming apologies and agreements as fast as he was flinging miniature bathing sponges at me. When he actually heard what I was saying, he calmed down a little, but still clutched his backpack like a teddy bear. He wouldn't refrain to throw a miniature sponge at me when I least expected. I can't say I wasn't scared.

I pulled the entire suit off and introduced myself, just in case he had possibly forgotten who I was. That would have been a telltale sign of head trauma, being that we have known each other since preschool. He gave me a strange look, then spoke.

"Did you hit your head or something? We've known each other since grade school."

I was actually offended by the fact that he thought I was mentally disturbed. I was checking him first! "Oh yes, now I remember," I said, "you were that annoying one who always acted like a real-"

"It's nice to see you again, too," said Devican, grinning devilishly.

That smile earned us twelve sponsor gifts that night, the most in Hunger Games history so far. We ate like kings that night. We caught up with each other, laughed, shoved each other to the ground, and tried our best to avoid the elephant in the room. That elephant being, of course, that one of us has to die in the next few days. Or, perhaps, both of us.

We shared the sleeping bag he salvaged from the Cornucopia and spread as far apart from each other as possible. No matter how well you know someone, it can be extremely awkward to split a one-person sleeping bag. Especially when you can't tell yet if they will kill you in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, the ivory ceiling appeared to open into the endless black night. They began playing the list of the fallen tributes. Arki's face glared at me from the sky. Guilt ripped through my veins. She was followed by those from districts 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 11, and both tributes from 12. I counted 16 deaths. It was only the first day, and we were down to the top 8. This both comforted me and worried me. I wasn't sure I would survive to the top seven, let alone the top three. I turned over to look at Devican. His golden haze eyes glinted with tears. Those tributes weren't names to him yet. They were still people, innocents.

"I'll die for you," he whispered.

I turned around out of shock, and managed a stuttered "Wh-what?"

I'll die for you," he repeated quietly. "If it comes down to the two of us, I want you to kill me. Promise you will, please. Promise-"

He collapsed. I held him in my arms, wishing for the world to end this torture. I was amazed to realize that I was crying, too. I tucked my head into his chest and wept for all I had left behind. The fallen were departed, but I was dead at heart. Still, I knew he meant what he said. Devican would die for me, no matter what. I turned to him and whispered,

"I promise."

If only I had known what horrors would follow.


	5. Chapter 5: The Knifing Tree

Chapter 5: The Knifing Tree

Is it just me, or is this room getting smaller?

Yesterday that wall was about 10 feet away from us, and now we're nearly touching it. We might have moved the sleeping bag a little, but 10 feet in one night? I would have to look at this later, due to another significant change in the arena.

There was a large tree in the middle of the room, right on top of the Cornucopia. It was white, like the rest of the room, and looked almost flat if looked at straight forward. It's branches reached the ceiling, and it's leaves seemed to be made of... knives? Then I noticed the twitching. the twigs were firing at a different tribute camp every 10 seconds. This must have been going on for hours, because the careers seemed a little fed up with hiding under their backpacks and waiting out the attack.

Well, I was a little fed up, too. Our sleeping bag was covered in tiny slicers, and eventually one would rip through the fabric and poke me in the eye. They seemed to have little holes, like pores, lining the edges of the handle and the blade. Something gave me the feeling that I should do everything in my power to not let one of those blades stick me.

The girl from District 4 had a different idea. She walked forward and picked up the knife, delighted to finally have a weapon in her possession. Yellow goo oozed out of the handle, and she threw the knife down with such force the blade was detached. The tree suddenly stopped firing. The branches turned toward her, giving the illusion that the tree itself was rotating to face her. Even the Careers stopped plotting attack to watch what would happen to the poor, clueless tribute.

She was punctured over 400 times, from the looks of it. No blood, no attack, instant death. Her body dropped, the cannon sounded, the Careers continued as if nothing had ever happened. A hole appeared in the ground, and her body was pulled into it by some invisible force. Ladies and gentlemen, the most ignored death in all Hunger Games!

Devican was still asleep, but he was moving around a lot, probably having a nightmare about fighting in the Games. How long until that dream became a reality?

I turned towards the tree, or at least where the tree used to be. Now, there was just a large hole on top of the Cornucopia. How could a whole, giant tree disappear so fast? I guess it's up to the Gamemakers how long each torture device sticks around, but 5 minutes seems short-lived, even for them. I decided there was no use in over-thinking the system, and crawled back in the sleeping bag.

I made sure I was on the side farthest from the wall. Better Devican than me, right?


	6. Chapter 6: Rock Wall, Rock Fall

Chapter 6: Rock Wall, Rock Fall

**Hey guys! It's my birthday eve, Sept. 13, and my present to you is... this chapter! (I'm sorry, that was both cheesy and predictable.) I promise I'm writing these as fast as I can! Thanks for all the people who left good comments, you made my day! Please post and tell me if this chapter is all right.**

I awoke to the same arena I fell asleep in, despite one noticeable difference. Make that two noticeable differences; the walls had closed in about 15 feet, and there was a giant, gray rock wall opposite us. It had ridges and divots all over, luscious tropical plants that contradicted the colorless room, and harmless-looking gorgeous insects flying about. A turquoise dragonfly flew towards me, and I jumped out of my sleeping bag and started swatting everything around me. It could have been deadly, right?

When it ceased to attack me for five minutes, I decided the little insect was the least of my worries right now (wow, it took 5 MINUTES to come to that conclusion! Looking back on that, I realize it was a miracle I was still alive at that point.) It looked like the only harm was the rock itself, and I was far enough away that even if the rock wall started chucking pebbles at an unsuspecting passerby, I was out of the throwing range. Why was it there?

Devican rose, finally awake after sleeping almost 14 hours. You would think, with the situation we're in, his internal clock would have adjusted due to paranoia. I hadn't gotten much sleep, and most of the night was spent combining nightlock with my blood in attempt to create an antivenom. While I pondered the properties of life, Devican was probably dreaming about unicorns and rainbows. Without me, someone would have definitely killed him in his sleep. I made sure to inform him of this, but he just laughed and said I could have killed him if I so desired. This was the Hunger Games, after all.

Devican noticed that I was on the opposite side of the sleeping bag, and I explained my logic to him about the shrinking room.

"Well in that case," he said, "That wall could have been poisonous, deadly even. Without me, you probably would have died in your sleep."

I reminded him that this was the Hunger Games, after all, and he could have killed me if he so desired. That made him laugh. We were officially allies.

We were so absorbed in conversation, we didn't notice the new addition to the rock wall. Someone was hanging from the ceiling above the wall. A light breeze rocked her stiff body, faced towards the wall to hide her identity. Suddenly, the noose rolled, and I caught a glimpse of her face, or should I say, where her face should have been. There was nothing left but rotting muscle and drying blood. There was a large cavity where her mouth once was, frozen in an eternal shriek. The corpse turned to face me, as if to say, _I know you killed me, and I will NEVER forgive you._ It was Arki.

I was shaking from fury, from pain, from pure emotion. I wanted to climb up that wall, remove Arki from her noose, and hang myself. Is that what they wanted? Well then, I might as well give them a good show. I had given it my best shot. Hasta la vista, Rindu Nadaria.

I stood to sprint to the wall, and Devican jumped up too. He pulled me back to the ground.

"I'm not letting you go that easily," he said. "I know what you're going to do, but it's not worth it. You can't play their Games. Listen to me. LISTEN TO ME!"

But my head was turned away, facing yet another horrible sight this Games had singed into my mind. The boy from 6, Titus, had run up to the rock wall. I remembered seeing him on the first day, deep-frying a tribute on his portable stove. He looked, if possible, even more insane now. His eyes were glassy and crazed, his clothing was drenched in still-wet blood. Pieces of tribute carcasses were stuck to him in various places, a little skin here, a severed bone there. He had dyed his once-platinum hair with the carnage he had acquired, finishing off the perfect look of pure and utter insanity.

He was trying to detach the body from the noose for a nice afternoon snack. He was already attempting to chew some flesh to curb his addiction until her body was fully cooked and sautéed in Tribute Sauce. Her corpse would probably give him wicked nightlock poisoning, so he'd be dead in just a minute. That was strangely reassuring.

I guess the Capitol just couldn't wait out that minute, though. They decided to kill him right there and then. a single pebble fell, ignored by Titus but noticed by everyone watching. No one said anything, though. Suddenly, the ceiling opened and released about a dozen elephant-sized boulders. It was a pretty wimpy avalanche by mountain standard, but it was enough to crush his body into a pulp. The cannon sounded, and within seconds the rock wall was gone, along with the body.

_That's too bad, _I thought. _It looked kind of pretty there._

Maybe I was just as insane as Titus.


	7. Chapter 7: Ain't 'Fraid of No Bees

Chapter 7: Ain't 'Fraid of No Bees

**Thanks for reading, everyone! I want to write a joke fanfic, entitled "What If Spiderman Ruled Panem". Comment if you would read it! Back to the story, now...**

It's unnerving, waking up and wondering what new horror the Capitol created while you were deep in dreamland. Will angry trees chuck poisonous knives at you? Will your dead enemy be hanging from a rock wall? These were all possible, and yet you still hope that somehow, some way, you will wake up in a room devoid of obstacles and people. You dream that you are victor. You awake to cold, hard reality.

Welcome to the Hunger Games! Today's episode: What Will Happen if we stick 6 Tributes in an Enclosed Room with a HUGE Tracker Jacker Nest? Six innocent teenagers, hundreds of tiny wasps designed especially for torturous murder, ONLY ONE VICTOR! Tune in to find out what happens next! Brought to you by, the Capitol, the world's most idiotic, imbecile, total-

Well, no use in insulting them inside my head, when I could say it directly to their face! Where should I start...

I really must be going crazy. This arena was getting to me. My main priority right now was to avoid that nest. It was hanging in the center of the room, visibly vibrating with what must be hundreds of lethal wasps waiting for the command to sting our faces off. I remembered them from last year, as well. Those Tracker Jackers must be the Capitol's go-to torture device, because I have seen them in almost all of the Games I remember. Their venom is just as affective every year.

I remember my mother telling me that everything they put in the Hunger Games is there for a reason, one that subconsciously convinces the Districts that things should stay exactly the way they are. What kind of message did the Tracker Jackers portray? Stay in your places, or we'll attack you with enhanced killer bees? If I were running a country, I would want my threats to be a little more substantial.

One of the Career tributes was walking towards the nest. He was just out of earshot, so I got out of the sleeping bag and moved a little closer. Devican was still asleep. What could it possibly take to keep this kid awake? We had watched over a dozen people die in the past four days, and he still slept like a rock. Still, I felt a little sympathetic, so I didn't wake him up. He deserved at least a little relief.

I had moved within earshot now, and was surprised at how close to the nest the Career dared to go. I suddenly remembered him as the particularly stupid boy from 2, Clovel. He was yelling at his fellow tributes, saying something about the nest.

"Hey, you guys are just..." He had a noticeable stutter to his voice. "You're just...just scared! Yeah, that's right, you're scared! You're scared and... and stupid! You're stupid, too! I ain't 'fraid of no bees, not like you... you scared people! Yeah, I'm so NOT scared I'm gonna... I'm gonna cut down the nest! Yeah, that's right. Why are you backing off? Are you too scared? Haha, well I'm not. See, I'm chopping it down because I'm not-not-not scared by a couple little-OUCH! Stupid bee! I'll get you, idiot!"

He started whacking the nest with his knife, screaming out some nasty language as more and more bees dug their tails under his skin. He flung his arms out and began twitching, but still continually hacked away at the cord supporting the Tracker Jackers. Suddenly, he striked the nest just a little too hard.

The nest crashed to the ground. I tried to back away, but I was too late. I felt a sudden, shooting pain in my hand, which increased into the sensation of having your hand chopped off over and over again. Soon all my limbs were joining the fun, and I felt as if I was being scorched head to toe. The pain dulled all at once, and a stunning young man appeared in front of me. It was Campion Lavete, Devican's brother, my friend, my soulmate...

He morphed, twisted, became only half of himself. The other half became my best friend, Lobellia, her green eyes, his golden hair, his rough, callused hands, her skinny, tan arms. His chest looked awkward on her waist, then I realized it was neither of their bodies. It was my stylist, stark-naked and blue as ever, screaming out to me with her cyan lips waggling, "Lick the bricks! Cut the string! May the watermelon be ever in your fay-vor!"

Everything went black as night.


	8. Chapter 8: May Cause Hallucinations

Chapter 8: May Cause Hallucinations

Hi Mom! Haven't seen you in a while. Gee, when did that mustache grow in? And all the other hair, you were covered, almost like a huge human-dog mutt. You may want to consider waxing...

Mayor of the Town! What's your name again? What happened to your face? Were those... organs? I looked down and realized he was wearing _my _organs. All that was left of me was a hollow cavity. I was always just a Titus Meal to the Capitol.

Oh no! The zombie mutts are coming! Their eyes have been replaced by...cupcakes? I screamed, but no noise came out. Only pools and pools of blood.

Here comes mom again, this time with a huge, silver lizard gnawing off her hand bone by bone. Her hair was matted, and an was arrowhead protruding from her head. Her eyes were hollowed sockets, and her face was black with what appeared to be coal dust. It was a miracle I could even recognize her. What was she saying to me? It looked to be something along the lines of,

"Tribute of 12 shall rock the boat, those who fight shall stay afloat, the city of bread will fall and die, the catalyst girl, the victors defy."

I flashed back to the Tribute Parade. The chariots rolled by, but I wasn't watching the glitzy costumes or the roaring crowd from the center. I was watching the tributes from the Capitol vantage point, absentmindedly cheering and trying to pick out the ones most likely to survive. I watched my own chariot go by, and was surprised to find that my mind had catergorized me as one of the easy deaths, bloodbath surely. I tried to convince myself that I had a chance, but my mind denied me the right to support other me.

The training days faded into sight, and I was getting slaughtered by the E-Z Climb kiddie rock wall. I hadn't succeeded in climbing higher than 10 feet, and already I was scared to fall down. This time, something was awry. I couldn't quite tell what, but I could feel it in the room. The room seemed to be getting...smaller.

The walls were closing in.

The walls are closing in.

THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN!

**Sorry if this chapter was a little hard to follow. I had to include a hallucination sequence, though both to foreshadow future events and to make the next chapter even more shocking. I promise the next chapter will make much more sense, thanks for everyone who's following my story!**


	9. Chapter 9: Awaken and Rest

Chapter 7: Awaken and Rest

Blood. A single movement, a flicker of my eye, revealed that I was soaked in it. I couldn't tell if it was mine or another Tribute's, but it sure looked like it was cascading from my veins. I forced myself to think of it as another hallucination. It had been a while since I could tell dream from reality. Heck, I wasn't even sure if I was actually in the Hunger Games in the first place. When waking from a hallucinatory coma, you have to take pure insanity into consideration. The eyes are easy to fool, and the red surrounding me on all sides didn't seem all to real. That is, until the pain hit.

My only thoughts were, please, somebody kill me. Stop this pain, end this all, I don't care about anyone else now. Then it ended, a single snap and the pain was gone. My eyes, once half-closed in agony, snapped open and looked to the ceiling. Only one medicine could work this fast. I could feel a slight ache in my arm, and I knew. An injection of morphling ran through my veins, numbing the pain and relaxing my body. The dose wasn't nearly enough to relax my mind, though.

Devican must have given it to me. But, where was he? I knew he didn't have a supply in his backpack, neither of us did. Only the careers had the meds... oh, heavens, no.

I sprung up and immediately fell down again. After looking myself over, I found that my ankle was sprained, my leg was cut open, and there was a bump protruding from the side of my hand, thanks to Clovel. I could have made it across the room in dire circumstances, but my legs disagreed with the prospect of moving, let alone running. When I saw Devican, I was going to kill him. Not literally. No, that would have to wait for later.

I caught a glimpse of his blonde hair from across the room. It took all my willpower not to yell across the room to get his attention. Instead, I refrained to making a fool of myself on national television. My main thought was, _if anyone is watching now, and I'm sure they are, I'll never live this up. _ I was waving my arms spastically, jumping up and down on my useless legs and eventually tripping and falling, face-first, into our food supply. Devican, being the sweet, caring boy he was, had left a dish of mashed potatoes out for me. They did a magnificent job of decorating my face.

He finally caught sight of me, and laughed, as I'm sure thousands of others were right that second. He ran towards me, still smirking. He didn't look.

He was on the ground before I could scream. A tribute had jumped out from behind an invisible wall, knife in hand. I leapt to my feet, only to see my ally become a mass of flying blood. As if he hadn't done enough damage, the boy kept slashing, over and over, until Devican's heart was torn open from his shaking body. The boy ran back to the career camp, and stepped one inch out of place. The camp was mined, as it was every year. I turned away, and managed to get a minimal amount of tribute residue on my jacket. Bloodstains covered my face and body, but it didn't stop me from collapsing onto Devican's open chest.

He was losing both blood and breath fast, but I couldn't contain myself. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood and drawing pink circles on the ground beneath us. My last hope was gone, all because of one little bee. He wouldn't have stolen from the careers. I would have been awake, and he would have kept me safe, and we would have been unhappy, but at least we were unhappy together.

He was still grinning, despite the pain. He managed to whisper, "Nice fall."

I drew my hand to my face, and realized that my left cheek was still covered in potato. I couldn't help but grin through my tears. he pulled his head from the ground with great effort, and licked a piece of potato off my face.

"Ew, what was that for?" I laughed, still crying.

"I promised myself I wouldn't be hungry when I died," He whispered. I couldn't take it all in. I didn't move, didn't speak, just waited for the inevitable. I tried to smile, to give myself hope, but there was no hope left within me. I was alone, surrounded by murderers, watching my only friend die. That could be me tomorrow. That could be me in the next five minutes.

"Good luck, Rindu," he said, with a final sigh. "You will win, I know..."

His dying words were drowned out by the bang of a cannon. I looked down at my hands, drenched in blood. His and mine. It was blood, and it would never wash away. I would live to my dying day with this blood on my fingers.

We had a blanket back at our camp. I took it to him, wrapped his body in it. If not for the red stains, I could have talked myself into thinking he was just asleep. Asleep for a very long time, but not forever. "Goodbye, Devican," I choked.

"You played a good Games." Just like that, a hole developed before me, and Devican was gone forever.

I leaned down and buried my head in my eternally crimson hands. I wept for Devican, for the family that will never see him again, and prayed that I would survive in his name. My only hope that his memory would live on was survival. I thought back to the day I stood on the pedestal, not too long ago, and believed I would die. I had made it farther than I could have dreamed, just by being lucky. It was time to go, now. use tactic. Fight. Kill. The game had changed now.

I had someone to play for.

**A/N: I updated, finally. I know it took a while, but I was writing a new fanfic with Kate2623 (coming soon!) and I had serious writers block. For all you Devican fans, sorry. This is the Hunger Games, after all. Thanks for reviewing (and occasionally nagging me), I appreciate any input! **

**This is completely off topic, but For any Mysterious Benedict Society lovers out there, read Old Friends, New Feelings by ecb327. It may be the best writing of all time.**

**Can't wait to post the new fanfic, but we can't come up with a title. The story is about 2 tributes from 8 in a very unique, and dark, arena. Any ideas?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10: Logic

**Chapter 10: Logic**

Tactics. What a strange word. The more I thought, the stranger it sounded. Tactics. Tactics. Tactics tactics tacticstacticstactics. Okay, I was letting my mind wander a little. It had been a day since the attack, and I hadn't made a full recovery from the injuries nor the morphling. The painkiller was sending my mind off on tangents of all sorts, and I was just fine with that. I didn't want to think realistically yet. I just wasn't ready, per say.

Per say is strange, too. Perrr-sayyy. Per- oh, great. would this ever end? I needed to get on a solid train of thought. Like a big train, on a metal railroad. One that had many cars hooked together all neatly, with a kitchen inside that made little cakes for the passengers to- UGH!

If I let my mind slip again, I'll die. I'll get killed by one of the three other people left in this ungodly situation with me. One of four left. It was both terrifying and strangely satisfying. I had made it this far. Now, I can either take a risk by waiting it out, or take a bigger risk by going human-hunting. Or, I could take the riskiest route- find a new ally, leaving my entire life to someone who is not only allowed to, but encouraged kill me in my sleep. Still, maybe it can replace the hole Devican left behind. It sounded like the best solution, so I searched.

It didn't take me long. I turned a corner and there she was, huddled up in her sleeping bag and bone-thin from near starvation. Her thin, blond hair was surrounding her tattered clothing, and I remembered seeing a glimpse of a sword fight before I was poisoned. I laid my backpack on the ground, sat down beside her, and reached for her hand. From what I could tell by the muffled cries and her shaking hands, she was sobbing.

She didn't move when I sat next to her. Either she trusted me, or she couldn't move at all. She wiped her eyes, and I caught a glimpse of her sleeve. A. WARFIRE, 6 was emblazoned on the only scrap of her clothing left untouched. Her name was Ardine, and she had scored 9 in training. I knew this because she was after Devican and I, after I recieved my slightly disappointing 7. Her name had flashed for a fraction of a second before Marriline, our escort, switched the screen off. I knew then that I needed to help her live. If she won, she would always remember me. I would remain in the minds of others, and that was all the consolation I needed to take her hand in mine.

After a few minutes, she spoke. "Are you here to kill me? Can you? Please?"

I told her that I would never hurt her. I could see trust building in her eyes. "Are you hungry?" I said tentatively, as if it were possible she would refuse me.

She agreed with a nod so vigorous her head nearly rolled off. We talked between bites of the dried meat in my backpack, about our lives, our families, and our favorite things. We carefully avoided the elephant in the room, until I told her I would stand guard until she fell asleep.

"You're very brave, Rindu," She said, her eyes fluttering shut. "Don't be too brave."

Her breathing slowed, and I watched her fall asleep. It felt good to have an ally again, someone to confide in. I wasn't sure of my bravery yet, though. It felt like she had only seen one side of me, The Games side, the survival side. I knew where to hide, how to get food, and I knew when we were in trouble.

Someone had seen us. I could feel it in the nape of my neck as it slowly traveled down my spine. I sat still for what felt like many years. I was preparing to move the two of us to a safer location when I heard the gunshot. I looked down, expecting to see the black blood rolling down my side.

Not a single drop was spilled.

**Sorry this took so long! With writer's block, school work, and Aerial Silks... well, you get the idea. Thanks for reading! **


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